


Sherlock Plus One

by PeachTart



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, omega - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachTart/pseuds/PeachTart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to an administrative error in the Netherworld, Sherlock's life ended prematurely. He was given a second change IF he allowed his body to be 'hitchhiked' by Robert, another victim of administrative error. This is a story of how a perfect omega turned into the Sherlock we all loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I am supposed to be working on ['Memories'](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1593542). I have even have a draft....sort of. But the story is getting slightly depressed and there are so many layers of mysteries to be revealed that I tripped myself over it. I need a break. I need something to make me smile. This story is the result. It will be updated irregularly although I do have a few chapters ready. This is not beta-read. All comments welcomed.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Mycroft Holmes was one of most powerful man in England, on the way to the most powerful man in England. That was provided he managed to ‘dispose’ some inconvenient people. How he would do it was another matter totally. He was optimistic that no blood would be shed, if some blood was shed, it was just...unfortunate. He would need to remember to send flowers to the funerals of his late but not lamented adversaries.

 

He was a man that had no weakness. _Almost_ no weakness. Except for that little bundle joy who became a not-that-small bundle of joy. His baby brother. William Sherlock Scott Holmes. The epitome of the perfect Omega who had the 10000 page tome known as the Perfect Omega Bible hardwired into his DNA. He should be happy that his little brother was a perfect Omega, a credit to his family and had made an eligible match with the Trevor family who would help in on his quest for power. But…he had seen something in his brother, a spark of rebellion that he was not contented to be the perfect, obedient Omega who would defer to the Head Alpha of the family and later to his Alpha husband selected by the Head Alpha. He had seen a brief look of longing when he had casually asked his baby brother to consider to majoring in chemistry as his brother had an uncanny knack in the subject. The look of longing lasted for one short second before his baby brother announced that it was not ‘proper’ for an Omega to take up sciences. Mycroft should be happy that he had such an obedient Omega brother, living up to the society’s expectations of what Omega should or should not do. But he was not. For some reason, he wanted his baby brother to live according to what he wanted, not something that would benefit the family or expected from the society as an Omega.

 

He was only away for three short days to negotiate a delicate deal with a country from the former eastern bloc. He was still en route to England when he received the news that his baby brother whom he adored was found dead from an apparent drugs overdose.

 

“Where is Sherlock now?” Mycroft demanded as soon as the plane touched down. The plane had travelled at a speed that almost rivalled the speed of light and had broken all speed records. His mind had still not accepted that his brother was dead. Upon learning that his baby brother’s body had been taken to the mortuary for autopsy, a standard protocol for suicide cases, Mycroft panicked.

 

“Stop the autopsy at once,” Mycroft yelled to the phone as his driver activated the secret button which would ensure all the cars on the route to the mortuary would be cleared by force.

 

\----

 

**St. Bartholomew’s Hospital**

**Mortuary**

 

Molly Hooper sighed dreamily at the naked body on the slab. A prime example of a sixteen year old male Omega. The epitome of the perfect Omega, the wet dream of every Alpha and Beta. She had to fight tooth and nail to be the one to perform the post mortem on the body. She had a weakness for pretty, young male Omegas and her colleagues had nicknamed her as ‘The Pervert’. Whatever. As long as she got first dips on young pretty male Omega bodies. Not many bodies met her exacting standards but the body in front of her had exceeded all her expectations. Curly, dark brown hair. Long pretty eye lashes. Flawless, creamy white skin. Supple and slim body. The body in front of her looked like a sleeping beauty, waiting for his prince to wake him up with a gentle kiss.

 

“I will be very careful, my pretty,” Molly cooed. She picked up a scalpel, frowned and put it down. She looked through her collection of scalpels and finally picked one up. The beauty deserved to be cut open by her favorite scalpel, a scalpel she reserved only for very special bodies. She then walked towards the body with her favorite scalpel. She squinted her eyes as she mentally traced out the pathway she would cut on the body. She gave a happy smile as she lowered her scalpel, preparing to cut the body.

 

“DROP your scalpel!” A loud voice boomed suddenly in the mortuary, startling Molly that she almost dropped her scalpel. She turned, startled, and found herself facing the end of a sharp umbrella. “I command you to STOP, right now” the voice said again.

 

Molly looked up and found herself in the presence of a menacing Alpha with a receding hairline brandishing his umbrella like a weapon.

 

\-----

 

**Immigration Department**

**Newcomer Office**

**Netherworld**

 

“Next!” Raziel, Angel Immigration Officer, Junior Immigration Officer Grade 3 said in a bored tone.

 

A soul shuffled to his counter and passed him a Death Certificate. The soul had an axe buried in his head, a casualty of a gang war. All souls appeared in the Immigration Section looking the way they had died. During his first month of his job as the Angel Immigration Officer, Raziel had thrown up every day at the sight of the souls. Nowadays, Raziel would not even blink at the sight of the most gruesome looking soul.

 

Raziel looked at the Death Certificate and scanned it. The short beep from the computer indicated that the death details had been verified and captured in the Central Records.

 

“Welcome to the Netherworld,” Raziel gave the soul a standard service smile, showing only the top row of teeth. The soul in front of him was doomed for hell. But nowadays, every soul was entitled to legal help in appealing their final destination. “Follow the yellow line. We have an officer waiting for you to advice you on your rights and future destination.”

 

“I can’t wait for our shift to be over,” Adramelech, Demon Immigration Officer, Junior Immigration Officer Grade 4 said. He manned the immigration counter next to Raziel. He joined the Immigration Department a year ago and struck up a fast friendship with Raziel. They spent their nights together at bars bitching about their supervisors. They barhopped every night and vowed to visit every drinking outlet in Heaven and Hell.

 

“Yeah,” Raziel said morosely, as he directed another soul to the interview office. “I need a drink. It is just our dumb luck that there is an influx of souls as a result of the nuclear disaster during our shift. I need a break. A long, break. I am sick of this dead end job. Nothing exciting ever happens here.” Upon his graduation from the Angel Academy, he was asked to join the Heavenly Choir. Raziel shivered at the thought as he conjured up images of endless practices where all the singers were expected to dress up, standing stiffly singing music that had not changed for millenniums. He was more of a heavy metal type of singer but he was politely rejected from joining any of the heavy metal groups, runned exclusively by the demons.  Racism, Raziel thought bitterly. He was a good singer and everyone knew it. He was discriminated because he was an Angel. As for his snub in joining the Heavenly choir, the conductor of the Heavenly Choir, an archangel who thought the only music worth performing were music in praise of Christ, had ensured that the only job opening he had upon graduation, was the Immigration Department, known as the place where both Heaven and Hell dumped their more… _problematic_ residents.

 

\---

 

Adramelech stretched his back discreetly as a new soul shuffled to his counter. He was looking forward for his shift to be over. He ended up in the Immigration Department because one of the demons outed him as a closet lover of romance movies. The moment he was outed, he was stigmatised. His demon instructor had hinted that it was _inappropriate_ for a demon to be so enamoured with romance movies. He had stubbornly refused to give up his hobby and it was the reason why he was posted to the Immigration Department upon his graduation from the Hell Academy.

 

Adramelech gave a brief look at the soul in front of him. For a dead soul, the soul looked remarkably intact, for a suicide case from drug overdose. No foaming at the corner of the mouth or green face. Adramelech scanned the Death Certificate.

 

Once.

 

Twice.

 

There was no response from the system. No beep to indicate that the Death Certificate had been cross-referenced with the Central Record. Puzzled, Adramelech logged into the system to check. He scrolled through the records. He pulled up the record of the soul in front of him. It was not known to the human world but every single person was destined to die…..at a time determined by the joint Heaven/Hell Committee. He pulled up the record of soul in front of him. It looked as though he would need to process the Death Certificate manually.The computer beeped once and the record of the soul appeared on screen.

 

_Name: William Sherlock Scott Holmes_

_Age of Death: 37_

_Cause of Death: Failure of Major Organs after 20 years of Coma from tempering of drugs_

 

Adramelech blinked at the record on the monitor screen. He then looked at the Death Certificate given to him by the soul.

 

_Name: William Sherlock Scott Holmes_

_Age of Death: 17_

_Cause of Death: Murder_

 

Adramelech looked up and examined the soul in front of him who was sobbing softly. The soul in front of him was definitely not 37 years old at the time of death. Almost automatically, his hand reached out and pressed the red button under his counter and sounded the alarm. Someone would be in deep shit, Adramelech thought absently as he stared at the soul in front of him. Someone had made a mistake and collected the wrong soul.

 

\----

 

Raziel cursed inwardly as the scanning machine seemed to quit on him as he tried to scan the Death Certificate. The Computer Section was supposed to replace the aging scanning system three months ago but due to a massive budget cut, the Computer Section had put the replacement programme on hold indefinitely. He hated to put up manual records as he would need to get the signatures from the Head Demon and Head Angel of the Immigration in order to process the records. Frustrated, he typed furiously on the keyboard to retrieve the record of the soul in front him who must have died in a fire, judging from the charred skin.

 

_Name: Robert Joshua Tyrell_

_Age of Death: 89_

_Cause of Death: Natural, in sleep_

 

Natural death? Raziel could not judge the age of the soul in front of him due to the charred condition of the skin but he was sure that the soul did not die in a natural sleep from old age. His hand reached out and pressed the red button under his counter. He looked up as the alarm sounded. To his surprise, he heard two alarms. He looked across and saw Adramelech’s shocked look, his hand still under the counter pressing the red alarm button.

 

“Wrong collection of soul?” Raziel whispered at Adramelech. Adramelech nodded and took a quick look at his surroundings to make sure that the personnel from the Investigation Department had not arrived.

 

“You too?” Adramelech whispered back.

 

Raziel gave a silent nod.

 

Raziel and Adramelech looked on as the personnel from the Investigation Department arrived and ushered the two souls away politely. They then looked at each other and grinned. They would get several rounds of free drinks in the bar later. Every Angel and Demon would want to learn from them what happened today. Wrong collection of soul? The last wrong collection of soul happened 237 years ago and the Joint Heaven/Hell Hearing had to compensate the soul by allowing the soul to pick and choose his next rebirth as the king of a totalitarian country with a harem of 1000 virgin Omegas. Some Angel/Demon from the Soul Collection Department would be in deep, deep shit for collecting the wrong souls. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little background to the Omega Universe where the new and old collides.

Enjoy chapter 2. Not beta read. Thank you for the kudos given to chapter 1. Hate it? Like it? All comments are welcomed.

 

**\----**

**Very Important Soul Waiting Area**

**Netherworld**

 

Robert Joshua Tyrell sat on a comfortable sofa in a lavishly decorated waiting room. His face was charred, impassive and expressionless, a result from his death in which the body burnt his bodily remains into a crisp. Even he still had his original looks, his face would also be impassive and expressionless, not much of an improvement. In fact, his Omega fiancée had on more than one occasion, remarked nastily that he obviously suffered from moebius syndrome, with a face permanently carved on a piece of ice block. Most people had called him an ice block behind his back, a harmless nickname he ignored. It was a true irony that the ice block died in a fire. There was no love lost between him and his Omega fiancée. It was an arranged marriage, between two powerful families. His Omega fiancée came from a family with an illustrated lineage but squanders and bad investments by successive generations had rendered the once proud family on the verge of bankruptcy. The Tyrell family, was nouveau riche, desperate to boost their lineage. It would be a marriage of convenience with both families getting what they needed.

 

Most marriages at the upper echelons were arranged. Robert would close an eye on his Omega fiancée as long as she was discreet. He prided himself as a progressive Alpha. He cetainly did not overly protest against the Omega Sexual Freedom Movement since he would be a beneficiary. He no longer needed to wait to be married in order to have sex with an Omega. In fact, he would be surprised to find an Omega who was _still_ a virgin above the age of sixteen. Only the most traditional families still expect the Omegas to keep themselves chaste until they were properly married. The iconic scene where the Perfect Omega Bible was burnt marked the beginnings of sexual freedom for all genders. It was the best time for Alphas, especially single Alphas. The Omegas...for lack of better words...went to a sexual frenzy. Being a porn star was considered a respectable job for an Omega.

 

Robert was a progressive Alpha. He certainly did not expect his fiance to be a virgin. In fact, he preferred his eventual spouse to be sexually experienced. Some Alphas might prefer to teach a shy, sexually inexperienced Omega partner. Robert preferred a... _finished_ product.  He knew his fiancée had lovers on the side and since he too had his own lovers, he would not interfere. However, he had made it clear that this would change after their marriage as he would not raise a bastard child. He knew his Omega fiancée hated him but he did not expect his Omega fiancée to be bold enough to murder him. For one moment, he regretted not keeping a closer eye on his Omega fiancée. His Omega fiancée had drugged him and when he woke up, he found himself tied to a chair in a deserted house. She told him gloatingly that she would be rid of him and would be free to be her true love. He was sure he was the shadow of a person who was watching the whole scene as his Omega fiancée taunted him. The hidden figure had doused himself with a neutraliser so that he had no discernible scent. Perhaps the hidden figure was someone he knew and had betrayed him? It was too late now. He was dead and there was nothing he could do to find out whether his Omega fiancée was working alone or that she had someone helping her in the background.

 

\--

 

Robert tried to put his sleeve away as the soul beside him, a young Omega, was using the sleeve as a handkerchief to blow his nose as he sobbed softly. If the soul was not an Omega, he would have pulled his sleeve forcibly away. However, the Alpha instincts in him stopped him from doing so, allowing the traditionally delicate Omega to use his sleeve as a handkerchief.

 

“I am so..soorry..” the Omega sobbed, as he used the sleeve to wipe his snot. “I didn’t…didn’t…it is not my fault…I didn’t overdose…I didn’t…didn’t want to die. Mycroft…I…I…I didn’t do…”

 

Robert resigned to the fact that the Omega beside him was using his sleeve as a handy handkerchief. His mind turned towards his death again. Before he was ushered off, he had overheard whispers that his death was possibly a…wrong collection of soul? His mind still boggled what happened after his…death. He had not thought of death. Why should he? He was young, rich and healthy Alpha. Why would he dwell on death and afterlife? Well, he did have vague notions of the good floating to the pearly gates, welcomed by beaming angels and celestial music and the bad being dragged to depths of hell by cackling demons. He certainly did not expect that upon his death, he would end up at a registration counter and be issued a set of flowy looking red gown with long sleeves (standard clothing for newly arrived souls) and his death certificate by a bored looking being dressed in a black and white suit. According to the personnel at the counter, he was supposed to report at the Newcomer Office to register his arrival at the Netherworld and he would be ‘advised’ of his next stage of his journey after his death. He ended up queuing behind a long snaking queue waiting to be registered at the Newcomer Office. The chatty soul in front of him (choked to death on a fishball)  the queue shared with him that the queue was exceptionally long today because there was a nuclear disaster earlier leading to an exceptionally high number of souls needed to be processed.

 

It must be close to six hours before it was Robert’s turn to be processed. The officer manning the registration counter, wore a name tag that read ‘Raziel, Angel Immigration Officer’, was obviously frazzled at processing yet another soul from a never-ending queue. He gave a frustrated grunt as the scanner seemed to quit working. After a few attempts, the officer gave up and pulled up a record from the computer. The officer’s eyes literally bulged at the record and gave a furtive look at Robert and then looked back to his computer screen and the Death Certificate.

 

“Sir,” the officer who went by the name Raziel gave one of the standard smile used by all those in the front counter service which indicated that something-fucked-up to the customer in front of them, “There is some…problem with our…computer system. Allow my colleagues to escort you to a suitable waiting area while we sort out…the records.”

 

Before Robert could open his mouth to ask, he was quickly ushered away by two officers on either side of him, leading him to a posh-looking waiting room. At the corner of his eye, he saw another soul from the counter on his left, also being ushered away into the same waiting area. Robert gave another pull, hoping to free his sleeve from the death grip of the Omega soul sitting next to him.

 

“Everything will be fine,” Robert said awkwardly. While he enjoyed having an Omega, especially one in heat, in his bed, he avoided dealing with Omegas out of his bed. They were just too…delicate and prone to hysteria and he did not have the patience nor the inclination to coax or pander to the wishes of the Omegas. He gave a hesitant pat on the Omega’s shoulders and before he knew, the Omega was almost on top of him, buried into his chest.

 

\---

 

Sherlock sobbed, refusing to let go of the Alpha in front of him. It was against the strictures in the Perfect Omega Bible to be in such close proximity of an Alpha who was not a family member but at this moment, he did not care. He was at first outraged and then petrified when he found that he had died. He almost threw a hissy fit when he was issued the standard clothing at the registration counter. Whoever designed it had no taste and he was tempted to be naked. During the long wait to be register his arrival at the Netherworld, it finally dawned on him that he was dead. And the enormity of his realisation made him cried. He would never get to see his doting elder brother again while his conniving cousin, Jayson Holmes, the architect of his downfall, would no doubt takeover his position as the pet of the Holmes family.

 

He would never admit it, not even in front of his doting elder brother, who looked after him and the confidant of all his childish secrets. Sherlock wished that he was born an Alpha or even a Beta. Instead, he was born an Omega. An Omega in a traditional family. An Omega in a traditional family had no suffrage rights, the right to sue or even the right to own property or even a bank account. The ideal Omega in the traidtional family was pure, chaste, refined, and modest. The role of a perfect Omega in the society was to be a homemaker, requiring him or her to provide their Alpha husband with a clean home, food on the table and to raise children. The Omega would literally be the property to their Alpha husband and even abrogated the Omega’s right to consent to sexual intercourse. And if the Alpha wanted, he could have Omega concubines on the side. Sherlock knew he was luckier than most Omega. With a doting and powerful elder brother who was surprisingly progressive on Omega rights even though they were from a traditional family.  He knew he would be safe from any abuses even if he was married into another traditional family who treated Omegas as properties. Sherlock vowed to be the perfect Omega that would be credit to his family and make his brother proud. He had ruthlessly stamped out any non-Omega traits and his entire education was centred on equipping him with skills which would make him the perfect Omega. He had turned his nose on the modern Omega Sexual Movement and was contented with his lot of life as a traditional Omega, an oddity in an age where Omegas were invited to T.V. shows to discuss their sexual prowerr and proclivities. 

 

Life was good until cousin Jayson, several times removed, came into his life. Jayson was the only Omega son of their late unlamented uncle who had gambled away his inheritance. He died of alcohol poisoning and as the head of the Holmes family, Mycroft was obliged to take in their cousin. Sherlock had no problems with Mycroft taking charge of their cousin and even taking him to stay at their ancestral home. In fact, Sherlock had sympathised when he learnt of his cousin Jayson’s predicament. With an alcoholic father who had squandered away his entire inheritance, Jayson was one step away from being auctioned off to the highest bidder who would want to be linked by blood to the Holmes family. Cousin Jayson was only three years older than Sherlock and Sherlock was genuinely thrilled to have a cousin who was also an Omega to stay with him at the ancestral house. The Holmes were known for producing Alphas with the occasional Betas. Having an Omega was a rare event that every Omega born to the Holmes family was cherished. Sherlock had a lonely childhood as all his cousins were Alphas and Betas and he had no other Omega relative to talk or confide. He did have several Omega friends but it was different. For the first time, he would have an Omega cousin they could hang out together.

 

In the beginning, everything seemed fine. Cousin Jayson was a timid and delicate Omega, deferent to Mycroft and would only speak when spoken to directly. Sherlock had introduced his cousin to his equally well born Omega friends and had seen to it that his cousin would fit into the upper echelons of the society. However, Sherlock found himself isolated from his own Omega friends after the introduction of cousin Jayson. Sherlock swore that his cousin Jayson was the most delicate Omega he ever knew in existence, prone to tears and fainting spells. They could be talking about the weather and then cousin Jayson would lead the subject to his dead uncle and his eyes would reddened. More than once, their friends had walked on to them with cousin Jayson crying or on the verge of tears. Cousin Jayson never said a bad word on Sherlock but gradually there were rumours in the Omega fraternity that Sherlock had ill-treated him as he was jealous of the attention given to Jayson as the ward of the Mycroft. Sherlock did not know of the vicious rumours until one of his Omega friends chided for ‘treating poor Cousin Jayson badly'. Sherlock confronted his cousin over the rumours and this time, Mycroft walked on to them with Jayson looking as though Sherlock had bullied him and he was too afraid to speak up. When asked by Mycroft on what was wrong, Jayson had timidly said nothing was wrong, looking to the world like a poor, downtrodden Omega too afraid to speak up against his abuser. Thank goodness Mycroft was too smart to be taken in and he believed that nothing untoward had happened between the two Omegas.

 

Sherlock had distanced himself from his cousin after the confrontation. He did not know why his cousin Jayson was bent on destroying his reputation but he suspected jealousy was behind his actions. However, he did not expect to walk into his room and found both Cousin Jayson and his fiancée in his bed. Cousin Jayson had promptly proceeded to cry that he was ruined and his fiancée assured Cousin Jayson, right in front of Sherlock on Sherlock’s own bed that he would take Cousin Jayson in as a Second Wife and he would be papered and treated no different from Sherlock. Any children Cousin Jayson borne would have a right to the family fortune. It was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. Sherlock started to scream to the couple on his bed and forcibly kicked them out of the room and told Victor in no uncertain terms that the engagement was off and Victor would be welcomed to take Cousin Jayson in as the First Wife. Sherlock tightened his fist and started to hit the Alpha which he clung on. That two-faced fiancée and his slut cousin. As far as he was concerned, both of them could go to hell. There was no way he would accept Cousin Jayson as his future Alpha’s husband’s Second Wife. Sherlock sniffed loudly. It was too late. He would not have the joy of asking Mycroft to call off the marriage. He could always marry another family who could give Mycroft the needed backing. The Holmes could do without the Trevor family but not the other way round. The Head of the Trevor family would crucify Victor, his unlamented ex-fiancee. But…Sherlock grinded his teeth…he was conveniently dead. And accordingly to that death certificate, he was murdered. If only…if only…

 

\---

 

Robert was embarrassed and tried to extricate himself from the Omega’s death grip. He was dead. He had no physical body. And he was getting hard. For some reason, the Omega hanging on him had gave him a hard on his…apparition. He winced as the Omega who was literally sitting on him started to hit him and he was half-expecting a hard, painful bite.  The loud grinding of the Omega's teeth could probably be heard across the room. Omegas. Robert rolled his eyes. Always overdramatise every little triffle. Well, Robert admitted grudgingly, it was perhaps not a really _small_ trifle. They were both... _dead_...and from the information he gleamed, a result of an 'administrative error'.

At this moment, the door to the room opened.


End file.
